


Fly Away

by SpotTheMagicDragon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is a country music star, Inspired by Tim McGraw, M/M, SURPRISES ALL ROUND, and Stiles isn't, how does this tagging thing work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:06:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpotTheMagicDragon/pseuds/SpotTheMagicDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a country music star playing a show back in his home town. He has a surprise for the man who made it all possible...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly Away

**Author's Note:**

> FIRST FIC <3 Thank you @ericaismeg for reading this for me :D   
> Based on Tim McGraw's lovely "Last Dollar (Fly Away)"

The crowd is wild—the concert is three-quarters over, and Derek knows Stiles is standing in the wings, soaking up the atmosphere. He’s already texted Derek to tell him he’s loving the energy and excitement Derek’s giving off out in front. Derek can’t really blame him—singing to a packed out stadium with his band is one of the most incredible feelings he’s ever experienced.

 

The crowd quiets down a little when the spotlight falls on Derek. This is something they haven’t seen before. He adjusts the microphone, glances at the wings of the stage; sees Stiles looking confused. Excellent, he’s managed to keep it a surprise then. He owes the band a few dozen rounds, then.

 

He slings his guitar over his shoulder, pulls the mike off the stand, steps forward. “How y’all doin’ tonight?” he asks, and grins when the crowd whoops and hollers. “That’s awesome. Let me tell ya, nothin’ like standing in front of a great crowd, but nothin’ beats playin’ to a great crowd IN YOUR HOME TOWN!” The crowd erupts into cheering, posters and screams from all sides. He waits for a few moments, then gestures for them to quiet down.

 

“So, this song is one y’all haven’t heard,” he tells them, biting his lip. “It’s a new one, and it’s real special.” The crowd is starting to whisper—a new song?

“I'm sure most of y’all know how I started,” he says, frowning slightly. “I didn’t have a real good life from ‘bout seventeen. And all I had was Ol’ Faithful—“ he gestures to the guitar on his back, “—and there were a lotta days I didn’t know how I was gonna keep goin’.” He takes a deep breath.

“But then I met someone. And he’s—well, he’s pretty damn amazin’.” He looks to Stiles again, and Stiles is gaping—they’d agreed to keep their relationship mostly secret to avoid the pitfalls of Derek’s more traditional audience. He turns back to the crowd.

 

“I wouldn’t be standin’ here if it weren’t for him,” he tells the crowd. “And there’s no way better I can show him how much he means to me.” He steps back, swings his guitar around again, strums a few chords. The crowd are quieter than they have been all night, but so far no one’s throwing shit at him. Good start.

He leans into the mike again. “So, this is a real special song, guys,” he says. He winks at Stiles. “And I'm gonna ask the man of the hour to come on out here, ‘kay?” The crowd cheers again. Well, that’s better than he expected.

“Stiles, wanna get that fine ass out here with me?”

Stiles is blushing furiously when he trips his way over to stand beside Derek. “You bastard,” he hisses, happiness written on every inch of his face. Derek merely chuckles, and plants a firm kiss on him.

 

He nods to Boyd on the kit up the back, and turns back to the mike. Boyd counts him in and he starts singing in time, eyes closed, pouring out his heart into the song.

_One, two, three, like a bird I sing,_

_Cause you’ve given me the most beautiful set of wings,_

_And I'm so glad you’re here today,_

_Because tomorrow I might have to go and fly away..._

They finish up the song, the crowd screaming themselves hoarse, Stiles nearly in tears beside him. Derek beams at him, and then falls to one knee.

“Der? Derek, what the fuck are you doing down there?” Stiles asks, his eyes wide. “Derek, is this—“  
“Stiles, shut up,” huffs Derek. Stiles shuts up.

“Stiles Stilinski. You’ve already turned my life around, and you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I was allowed to be. You gave me wings. Will you fly with me, even higher, Stiles? Will you marry me?”

Every fan in the stadium is on their feet, screaming. Derek can’t hear any of them. His eyes are locked on the now-crying Stiles, who is nodding and laughing and tugging him up to kiss the shit out of him. “You bastard,” he whispers against Derek’s cheek. “You’re lucky I love you.” Derek chuckles, and kisses him gently again.

 

It’s much, much later, after the rest of the concert and three encores (Stiles counted them incredibly impatiently), and they’re lying in Stiles’s old room, sated and sleepy. Derek croons what he thinks of as Stiles’s song into Stiles’s ear as he drifts off to sleep.

“The most beautiful wings, Stiles. You gave me yours.”


End file.
